I needed to see who was on my tail. There was always someone, for as long as I could remember. Even back in school — One‑Eyed Eaton. He lost his eye in the pool, peeping through a hole in the girls' locker room wall. Never found out who poked him with the pencil — faces weren't really his thing. In high school, we went at it over Clara — a little doll with her own room in some moldy dump and a dose of the clap. In the end, I lost my virginity to her and fifteen bucks for the treatment. He lost his teeth — because he kept tailing us, trying to intercept the notes I passed her in class.
Who was on my trail became clear when I hit the old office. A tiny piece of cellophane, wedged between the door and the frame, lay on the mat. Gorgeous morons! Let's see what they were after...70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjiIoxhAAQf
An envelope on the floor. Probably shoved under the door after the uninvited guest had already cleared out. Hopefully, an invitation to the White House for turkey dinner.
70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU9V6ZpCoDs
"Couldn't reach you" — that's Sausage's handwriting. And a clipping from an old paper: "Police find body with bullet‑riddled neck"... I remember that case. Remember the main suspect — Sam Lockwood. A real piece of work who skated on a solid alibi back then. He always went for the neck with the kill shot, even if three rounds were already in the head. So it's him behind the wheel of the Chevy with the cavalry horn, turning Pachèrito's people into chopped meat for lunch? Not good... Pretty sure I'm not gonna like the smell of his hot muffler. Well, at least I've got something.
Sam Lockwood... Professionals come in two flavors. The naturals — and the dumb ones. The naturals last. Not forever, but longer than the second kind — the ones who steamroll ahead, ignore their own mistakes, and burn out in a season or two. Sam was the second kind. But the bastard lasted like the first.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1kyip6jyDC
Three years ago, some young miss, crying on my chest (late night, in her bed), asked me to find her missing husband. He turned out to be a cheap grifter. That's not the worst thing life can throw at you. Worse is when you're a cheap grifter trying to scam an expensive one. Usually, a couple weeks later, your carcass ends up in a ditch, half eaten by rats. But this one got lucky — the rats never got to him. Sam Lockwood did.
It's all in how you do suicide. You might've noticed — I know a thing or two about it... So just remember: shooting yourself in the temple — that's class. Better do it with the curtain drawn in the bathroom, firing toward the wall. Brains wash off tile easiest, you selfish bastards. Or somewhere quiet — a railroad crossing. You got options — neck on the rails or a bullet in the head — at least it's something for the last ride. But if you go with the bullet, you gotta get the angle right. That's key. Lots of people forget and shoot sloppy. I knew a guy who shot himself from the temple upward and lived — happy as can be. He messed up something in his brain and started laughing nonstop. Not sure, but a draft through the skull must tickle. That's how the cops found him — and then the shrinks.
So Sam got hired to take out that cheap grifter, and he figured he'd sell it to the cops as a suicide. He dropped the guy in the bathroom and put one through his temple. But the guy lived too. Forensics cracked that later. Sam was so spooked he let one rip so loud the K‑9 units nearly passed out. Shooting twice is just stupid — that's not suicide anymore, that's a gunfight with yourself. So Lockwood just choked him out. And the whole thing got messy. Neck marks, a bullet hole in the skull — the cops found him like that. Word spread that Sam was a screw‑up. But he took the easy way — skipped to Mexico for three years, kept his head down, then came back. In the meantime, the hitman pool had thinned out, and work found him.
70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCbztKgPRs6
I studied the footprints on the dusty floor. Small size — Lockwood's not a big guy either. Judging by the tracks, he'd poked around, found zip. There was nothing to find. But he worked the address. Sloppy, but he did. That's what I tell myself — because working an address really means staking it out, waiting for the mark, and putting him down. He could be anywhere. No need to get close if you've got decent glass. Two hundred yards — with good optics, you can choose between the left and right ventricle.
Both ventricles are about to jump out of my chest right now... I'm trying not to run, like I don't give a shit. Thirty more steps to the courtyard exit... Twenty... Ten... Made it. I wonder if I'll live long enough to get tired of all this bullshit. So — Lockwood... That means Pachèrito's after Cesara and knows we're connected. How? Probably the limo — they've been tailing it. Might've put a tracker on it, but that's details. The chain lines up: Cesara – Pachèrito – Lockwood – me – Cesara. They don't know about Pshchedbrzdzhynski — he's still in the shadows. I love having aces up my sleeve. Even better — kings and aces together. Pshchedbrzdzhynski's about as much a king as kerosene is Cinzano, but when you're starving, you'll do a crab sideways. That's what my old boss used to say when he was pinning homicides on burglars. Speaking of Pshchedbrzdzhynski — so First Security is insuring the da Vinci? Small win — the Polack did good. Next — get all the details on the transport. And I know how.
* * * * *
"She's at the White Stork cemetery..."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsEConcLW93
"Yeah? Where's that?" — Pachèrito was already buzzed, but the news hit him sober.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVq6Yzw1mna
"Northwest, about seventy klicks. There's a sign. Second alley on the right, sixth grave."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ19YHaE8A7V
"Did she go out with class?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYhq8iMm9qX
"Like you said. Drill to the temple, slow speed."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC1LHHwcg80
"Something new. What's on the stone?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwZT3ljCSIt
"Loved everyone who cracked a joke"... Now Wang's gonna declare war on us.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxwnPSogTwh
"You're the best, Chicho! And who gives a shit what Wang does. He's a widower — and I bet his next wife won't have a sense of humor either."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡINmk3C6nBd
"Yeah, but... We're at war, Carlos."
"Who's 'us,' Chicho? There is no 'us.' We're ghosts. Nine men, all in cash. Wang'll be chasing smoke. We're gone. We hit his wife, buried her with honors, sent him a photo of the grave... Why's he gotta be sore about it? And we've got one last job — then we're out. Tequila and jazz, girls with round Caribbean asses."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhfh7HxalNb
"When's the job?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd51bLW16cK
"It's dragging — First Security can't seem to lock it down with Zauber. I've got my finger on the pulse."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7yp5IrXCrx
"You sure?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDFs3RWywbf
"Yeah, Chicho. I always keep my finger on the pulse. On any deal. You didn't know?" — Pachèrito's icy stare bored into Chicho.
Chicho broke out in a sweat. He'd seen that look before — and nothing good ever came after it. He knocked back a gulp of whiskey:70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGCDXm9aNfz
"Trouble?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIDgu12NjH2
Pachèrito reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and slapped it on the table:70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOUyTftbD9U
"Another deal was brewing..."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGsxvGhZAfa
Chicho loosened his tie. Not enough air in this smoke‑stinking bar... Six photos. At a table in "Mahitos" — him and Cesara... The sixth one was the killer. Her sliding a hundred‑grand check across the table to him.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKnzvAn9fxI
"Chicho, you know I sold 'Mahitos' just two weeks ago?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbRWjWMZmva
No, he didn't know. The two million Cesara had offered for Pachèrito's head had blown his attention span to hell.
"Here's the interesting part, you little fool," Carlos went on, almost fatherly. "She's been passing out fake contracts on me — and you're not the first. Know how I know? We ran the checks at the bank. Zero‑balance account. You won't be cashing any advance, dumbass!" — he spat. "Walter's waiting. One call — say goodbye to Rosita. Go."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡud8Jr584tJ
A hunched back... Pachèrito had seen that walk at least ten times in the last month.
* * * * *
Bathsheba raised the partition between the cabin and the driver, then turned to her sister.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu5h6jkHQWR
"Just four."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUGNpPos7Q7
"That'll do. Let Pachèrito deal with them," Cesara smiled and leaned back. "I don't think it'll take long — but still."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn5YklPX4HL
Four of them had taken the contract she'd put out on Carlos. Their chances weren't great — none of the four (besides Chicho) were anything like top‑tier. But wasting them didn't take much of a conscience.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfHEFb7dreA
Bathsheba shook her head:70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6Mw371ImMk
"Pachèrito probably knows about Charles. The one who's really Paul."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqyRFafWJd7
"Paul?" her sister asked in surprise.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhyGaYBK9E7
"Yeah. His real name is Paul. Though Charles Wind suits him better."
"I don't know..." Cesara smirked. "Paul's Paul. Stubborn little farm bull. What makes you think Carlos knows about Paul? I mean — Charles. I like Charles better. Gives me this dumb hope you can pound something human out of a bull."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1KGyS8h4Mj
"You could — if you dressed him like one first," Bathsheba shot back. "What'll you do when he finds out you're flipping his contract?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdQi0nzmtj
"Nothing. He'll walk in and put one in me. Won't even have time to blink."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDvmx1YFp3j
"We both know the only gun he'd use is the one between his legs."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTWXn8kP3Zu
"Can't wait... And why do you think Carlos knows about him?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwH4jWGuL7L
"Tracker on the car. Ángel found it at the wash."
The driver was Ángel — a young Basque, loyal to Cesara down to the bone, ever since she'd sprung his father from prison — the old man was dying of leukemia. He passed not long after, but Ángel's conscience was clean — he'd done everything so his father could die with dignity.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQmONxArQ7w
"Is that a danger?" Cesara shot a worried look.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVYaxoeQlmt
"No — more like unavoidable. And the fact that Charles came to see us is already out. We need a new car — something less showy than this."
"Tell him," Cesara nodded toward Ángel, "to handle it tomorrow. Don't worry about Charles — I'll talk to him. In the end, I'm betting that bulldog's the one who'll finish this. You think he's checking up on us?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVc074Y7Xzs
"Of course."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjWE04Qf2Oq
"Any thoughts?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx15PGGz0dp
"There's someone next to him — someone we can't see. He'll show him at the last second. If he shows him at all."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz4zdKGYvtU
"In Amsterdam too?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡts9WBI93q8
"I'd start there," Bathsheba said firmly. "How much did you give him up front?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK26IIJznPS
"Fifty grand."
"Fifty grand..." she did the math in her head. "That should be enough to not only find Dorothy, but dig up all the transport details."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDINkjJOiCI
"You mean Günter?" Cesara reached for the phone.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1BfYdoBMh8
"I didn't want word about Günter getting out too soon. When will the copy be ready?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡes4HnkPGHJ
"I'll ask."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIuUvb3u82X
A couple of minutes later, Cesara hung up:70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9KzJOmqThg
"A week and a half — maybe less. He says da Vinci isn't like Warhol and his cat crap in a jar."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB1m9vrHS09
"What a bitter truth! That all?"70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡteZl6SXpN5
"Almost. He also said some guy had been hanging around Dorothy's place for a couple of days — looked Russian."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAGdYtyqkV2
"How'd she figure that? Was he walking around in a fur hat and KGB epaulets?" — Cesara laughed at the image.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgn2grdLl7S
"I'll call Dorothy myself," Bathsheba paused for a second. "No need for Günter to know too much — these forgers are a jumpy bunch."70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPd6Rw8TSPr
and then Add to home screen.